


Paris Loves Lovers

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Modern AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valjean's worried they're not spending enough time together. Javert's thinking of something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paris Loves Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for craving-for-you.

Valjean groans as he gets out of bed. It’s Thursday and he’s late for work. Again. He looks sadly at the empty side of the bed. He knows he’s really late when Javert’s already gone by the time he wakes up. His partner’s never been one to lie in bed longer than necessary, and Valjean is the sort to linger as long as possible if he’s allowed. It’s not as much fun by himself though.

Now he pushes himself out of bed and heads to the shower.

*  *  *

The botanical garden where he works is in full bloom. Valjean pulls his gardening smock on. They have to finish planning their new rose trees by tomorrow. He’s quickly lost in the work, enjoying, as always the feel of fresh soil under his fingers.

So much so he forgets to take his lunch break. When he finally goes, Francois tells him not to forget to water the western flowerbeds. Valjean promises he will.

He goes through them row by row, but when he comes to the bed of forget-me-nots, he stops. There, nestled amongst the small blossoms, is a crisp white envelope.

Valjean looks around, reluctant to disturb some romantic rendezvous, but he hates for someone to have to lost the letter too. He plucks it up, turning it over. His initials are scrawled across the back. Valjean frowns, looking around again. There is no one in sight. He’s brought Cosette here multiple times, and Javert once or twice. He’s willing to tolerate the gardens for Valjean’s endless enthusiasm for all the blossoms and trees, but it’s not his favorite place.

If Javert were to leave a communication with him, he would leave it with the office. But he wouldn’t even do that; he would simply call Valjean or text. To Javert the art of writing is almost abhorrent as that of reading. No, it’s a mistake, or a joke. He opens the letter, frowning absently at the smudges from his dirty fingertips.

Valjean unfolds the paper inside the envelope and reads.

_To my dearest Jean,_

_I know we haven’t seen much of each other lately due to work, and for that I wish to apologize. Allow me to make it up to you tonight. Please meet me at Café de l'Alma, eight o’clock._

_Yours, always,_

_Javert_

Valjean smiles even as he wants to tell Javert he doesn’t have to do this. They both have busy schedules; their lives are full. This is all part of balancing work and a relationship. He never meant Javert to feel guilty for it.

Still he’s not averse to a romantic night out and it’s rare (all right, he admits, it’s unheard of) for Javert to plan such a surprise as this. It’s always Valjean who makes the romantic overtures.

*  *  *

All afternoon Valjean speculates on the matter as he works. How did Javert get the letter placed there? How long has he been planning this?

Finally he clocks off and makes his way home, whistling as he strolls along the boulevard.

When he’s home, he showers quickly. After that he spends far longer than usual trying to decide what to wear on such an auspicious occasion.

“Papa?” Cosette calls up the stairs. “I’m going out.”

“Don’t stay out too late.” He calls, then, “Cosette?”

“Yeah?”

Valjean goes to stand at the top of the stairs. “What do you think of this shirt?”

Cosette raises an eyebrow. “Papa, do you have a date?”

“As a matter of fact, “ Valjean smiles, “Yes.”

Cosette whistles. “The shirt is very nice. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Valjean says, heading back to the bedroom then, “Cosette? Why would I need luck?” but she’s already gone.

*  *  *

Valjean combs his hair twice, debates cologne and then decides against it. Once, Javert casually mentioned that he prefers the way Valjean smells naturally. He’ll go with that.

*  *  *

Javert is already pacing in the front of the café when Valjean arrives. His hair, usually combed neatly, is ruffled as though he’s been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. Javert tends to do this when he’s preoccupied with something bothering him.  If something’s been worrying him, Valjean has no idea what it is. His heart sinks a little at the notion of Javert keeping his troubles from him.

“This is nice.” Valjean greets him.

Javert smiles at him. “Oh, this isn’t where we’re eating.”

“What?”

“I just wanted a place to meet.”

Valjean considers this as he leans in to kiss Javert. “I see. The mystery deepens.”

“Come on.” Javert leads him down the boulevard at a brisk pace.

Perhaps Valjean should have guessed they were going, but he’s too busy enjoying simply walking along with Javert. Perhaps simply having a quiet evening together is all Javert wants. But if that were the case, why hadn’t he simply suggested they remain at home for the night?

“ _This_ is nice.” He reiterates, and this time Javert smiles at him. “Good.” He takes Valjean’s hand, bringing it up to his lips for a quick kiss.

Valjean wouldn’t mind if it simply continued like this, but Javert stops abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk. “Here.” He’s looking awkward and nervous and when Valjean notices where they are, he understands why.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” Javert sounds defensive. “We’ve never gone.”

“Yeah, but,” Valjean stares up at the Eiffel Tower. “I always thought…you wouldn’t go.” It hadn’t been implicitly stated perhaps, but Javert just didn’t do touristy things. It was that simple. Valjean had never considered asking him to go.

“And that goes to show how you don’t know everything about me.” Javert says tartly.

“Okay, okay,” Valjean’s grinning as they go up to buy the tickets. He never expected anything like this.

There are other people present as well, of course, but Valjean doesn’t notice them. Javert has a table reserved. It’s all very nice and Valjean can’t help wondering what prompted Javert to arrange it now.

 They order dinner and Javert requests a bottle of Chteau Latour Pauillac after a long deliberation.

Valjean blinks. “Are you sure you can,” He hesitates, not wanting to offend Javert, but a policeman’s pay is still not as much as it should be, and he knows the wine is expensive to say the least.

Javert shakes his head. “This is a special occasion. I wanted,” he looks slightly embarrassed, but continues onward anyway, “to do something nice. It’s all right, Jean.”

“All right.” Valjean accepts this. He knows what it is to want to do something for someone you love.

*  *  * 

Mid-way through dinner Valjean finally breaks.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

Javert coughs around a mouthful of roast potato. “What?”

“This is all amazing. But what’s going on?” A sudden fear seizes Valjean. “You’re not dying, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Javert reaches for his wineglass.

“Why is it ridiculous to ask that? You never,” Valjean cuts himself off as Javert’s starting to look cross. “I didn’t mean anything by that, everything’s all right.”

“No, it’s not.” Javert drains his wineglass and sets it down. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking. Things have to change.”

“What?” This is worse than anything Valjean could have imagined. What can Javert possibly be thinking? Things don’t have to change. Things are fine just as they are.

“It’s just…” Javert looks around nervously. “Maybe we should order more wine.”

“Do we need more wine?” Valjean can’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t afford it.”

“Damn it, I’m doing this all wrong.” Javert signals to the waiter. “Bill please.”

Valjean stares at the tablecloth in despair. “I never meant to ruin your evening. It’s just…” How can he explain now? If Javert doesn’t realize how much he means to him already, he’ll never be able to express it fully now of all times.

“Come on.” Javert draws him over to the balcony. “You didn’t ruin anything. Just, come on, look at the view. It’s…nice right?”

“I don’t give a shit about the view!” Valjean glares miserably at him until he can’t take it anymore and stares out at the view. It _is_ nice. It’s gorgeous in fact, and any other time he’d enjoy this immensely, but right now he can’t.  

Javert lays his hand over Valjean’s on the railing. “I’m not dying. Well, not imminently.”

Valjean smiles in spite of himself. “Pedantic ass.”

Javert grins, and then his expression turns serious. “The thing is, when I mean I think things have to change, I mean…I want them to change. I need them to change.”

This is it. Valjean stares sadly down at the streets of Paris. Javert has come up with some ridiculous reason to leave him and Valjean’s world will be destroyed. He blinks back tears. He’s not going to cry on top of the Eiffel Tower, but good god, why did Javert pick here of all places to tell him this?

“Jean?” Javert says tentatively. He takes Valjean’s hand in his hands, holding it between his own. “I want you to marry me.”

Valjean blinks again, but this time in shock. “What?”

“I know we’ve not thought it necessary, or perhaps you simply assumed I’d never consider it, just as you assumed I’d never visit the Eiffel Tower,” Javert says dryly. “But I…if there’s one thing you’ve taught me over the years, it’s that people can change. I have changed. You’ve made me better, and I want…I want you to belong to me. You already do that, and you know it. But legally, in the eyes of the law, I want you to be mine.”

He kisses Valjean’s hand tenderly.

Valjean’s still in shock. “Do you mean this?”

“I wouldn’t have it said it otherwise.” Javert raises his hand to cup Valjean’s cheek. “I love you. You know that, no, why are you crying?”

“Because I love you too, you idiot.” Valjean kisses him, wrapping his arms around Javert. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Javert’s arms tighten around him, and he takes a deep breath, “Good. That’s settled then.” He kisses Valjean’s neck and smiles.

Valjean holds him and looks out at Paris. Javert is right. It’s the most beautiful view he’s ever seen.


End file.
